Second Time Around
by ColieMacKenzie
Summary: The box was standard-sized, inconspicuous, but her heart started pounding the moment she peeled back the tissue paper, revealing bold, white print on a crimson background, a female silhouette in stark black... AU.


**SECOND TIME AROUND**

 _a/n: AU for 2x05, 'When The Bough Breaks,' sort of. :)_

* * *

The box was standard-sized, inconspicuous, but her heart started pounding the moment she peeled back the tissue paper, revealing bold, white print on a crimson background, a female silhouette in stark black.

 _Richard Castle_

 _Heat Wave_

Kate sank onto the couch, the shipping box on her lap, her fingers restless against the tissue paper that crackled and whispered, sharing secrets she couldn't quite grasp.

He'd sent her his book.

She couldn't help the nervous flutters that claimed her stomach, the flare of excitement that flushed her cheeks, made her fingers shake as she lifted the book from the box, cradled it almost incredulously.

Her favorite author, and she was holding an advance copy of his latest book.

She'd thought about him, for a while. He'd driven her crazy, back when he'd been following her during the Tisdale case, yet she could admit, if only to herself, that it'd been a bit more fun, having him around. He'd been like a nine year old on a sugar rush, totally incapable of taking anything seriously and yet...

And yet.

She'd seen the way his mind worked, seen the depth and intelligence just below the surface of the arrogant, egotistical attitude he'd displayed, had been in equal parts awed and shocked by the ease with which he'd analyzed people's thoughts and motivations, had profiled _her_ so seemingly effortlessly.

She opened the book, savored the crackle of its spine, the rustle and scent of brand-new pages never before touched or read. Her fingers traced the coarse texture of the first page, and she told herself she was not disappointed that there was no message scrawled on its blank surface.

Last time she'd seen him, she'd whispered in his ear and sauntered away. She still remembered the scent of his aftershave, the way he'd looked at her that almost, _almost_ made her turn back.

She could still feel his eyes on her, the tingle at the back of her neck.

Kate dismissed the thought. That chance had long since passed. She flipped the page.

An envelope slid out, and landed in her lap.

* * *

He was nervous. Bouncing on the seat, craving a drink nervous.

It was silly, really. 'Heat Wave' was going to be a success; after as many books as he had released, he simply knew. And book release parties were easy - a few drinks, a little flirting, some well-phrased words and the press would eat it up like hotcakes fresh off the griddle.

Surreptitiously, he glanced toward the entrance. Would she come? He knew she'd received the book, but did she open it? Find the invitation he'd hidden between the pages? Even if she'd found the envelope, he knew there was no reason to think she'd actually show up.

Rick hadn't seen her again, after that case. The mayor had nixed his proposal to follow her for research, hadn't bought the good publicity angle on which he'd tried to sell the politician. He knew the ropes, had more than enough experience to write the story authentically; he hadn't needed to follow her – he'd just wanted to.

There were days when Rick couldn't stop thinking about her. Of course he couldn't; she was his inspiration, his muse. She had sparked his imagination in ways that nothing and no-one ever had. He remembered everything - the fire smoldering in her eyes, her quick wit and fierce intelligence, that indomitable strength cradling a vulnerable soul. Her scent when she'd whispered in his ear, like the flesh of ripe cherries warmed by the summer sun, the velvet feel of her skin beneath his lips when he'd kissed her cheek.

She was the one that got away. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

Cameras flashed and he was certain he did not imagine the heightened rush of excitement that took hold of the crowd. He turned, his jaw dropping.

Legs that went on for miles and a dress seemingly painted to the lithe lines of her body, caressing her hips like sin. Her face reminiscent of a 1940s movie star - high cheekbones, smooth angles, an almost haunting air of untouchability.

Detective Kate Beckett.

* * *

Kate felt his presence before she saw him. She lifted her gaze from the book page, her heart like a bird caught in the cage of her ribs, flapping its wings against the bones bars. He was staring at her, his soft smile almost contradicting the fire in his eyes.

"The dedication… I mean… Wow," she stuttered, breathless, unmade by the words, by him.

"I meant it. You're extraordinary."

"You don't know me." The statement rang false the moment it fell from her lips. She lowered her eyes, felt herself blushing. Every page of the novel she was holding against her chest had told her differently. He'd seen her, seen too much, maybe, the characterizations of her fictional counterpart almost painfully true.

"But I'd like to." He took her hand. His fingers were warm, his thumb soft as he caressed her knuckles. "Know you."

Kate swallowed around the lump in her throat, her eyes startling open. She'd never seen him look as serious. Earnest.

"Have dinner with me." The dark of his eyes were awash with want, and her knees went weak. "Please."

A million thoughts were tumbling and jostling in her mind but all she could hear was her racing, leaping, excited heart. "Okay."

The grin that spread his lips was infectious. He tugged on her hand.

"What, now?"

He nodded. "Right now."

"But Rick. This is your party."

"There'll be other parties." Castle kept looking at her, his gaze smoldering and his hand warm around hers, and her heart still did that leaping, skipping thing, made her feel nervous and euphoric and a little bit crazy. She wondered where that voice was, the one that'd usually scream at her to stop, that warned her to be cautious, to guard her heart.

Yet this was different. Somehow, this was different.

 _He_ was different.

So she threw caution to the wind - and leapt. Sliding her arm into the crook of his elbow, she brushed her body against his, purposely careful not to skim her lips against the stubbled line of his jaw as she teased. "I hate the name."

"It's a cop name." He guided her through the throngs of people, and she barely noticed all the eyes on them, the questioning looks thrown their way.

"It's a stripper name!"

He leaned into her, his mouth so near that she could feel his breath caress her ear, and she shivered with excitement for every moment yet to come.

"It's hot."

* * *

 _a/n: I had_ _submitted this story to the recent Castle Hiatus contest, but since it didn't place, I made a few edits that ultimately leave me more satisfied with the piece. I admit I was rather smitten with this idea for a long time before I ever attempted to put it into words, and I hope that you've enjoyed this story and that it brought you some joy. Thank you for reading!_


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